[OP requests you now check post #43 for an update- ITD]
Here’s the situation: my wife and I are this close to being destitute. She will. not. work. She could get a job at a preschool tomorrow and bring in some much-needed income, but she steadfastly refuses, saying she’s more comfortable babysitting (two children) and she “doesn’t like being around people.” She probably has a point, as she’s been diagnosed with severe anxiety and depression, and the medicine she takes only goes so far. We’ve applied for Disability, but the process could take years, and that’s IF she can convince her doctor to write a letter of support.
I, on the other hand, have lost or quit in disgust every job I’ve ever had. My therapist believes I may have Borderline Personality Disorder, a devastating mental illness that oft ends in suicide. I’ve been suicidal more times than I can count, and my love for my mother is just about the only thing keeping me from pulling the trigger (literally). Right now I’m slogging away at my work-from-home job (freelance writing), pulling in next to nothing. I could probably get a job tomorrow too, but given my history I would just be putting off the inevitable.
We have tried everything: food stamps (we make “too much money”), LIHEAP (same), Section 8 (ditto), Medicaid (also), and so on. Government assistance won’t be happening. Her family could help us, but I don’t believe it’s up to them to subsidize us.
Long story short: I want out. Out of my marriage, out of this town, out of my own life. Lately I’ve been considering packing a bag and striking out for Florida and maybe staying at a homeless shelter until I can save up enough money to buy a van to live out of. That way I would at least be warm and able to eat.
Even then, I’m still going to be sick. You don’t cure BPD by moving to a new town.
I look back on my life and, since puberty, I’ve had maybe five good years. The rest has been poverty, drama, depression, and so on. Therapy and medicine help somewhat, but at the end of the day I realize that this is going to be with me for the rest of my life. That it’s never going to get better is not a thing I’m prepared to live with for another 30-40 years.
If anyone has any advice I would love to hear it.